


Threading the Needle:  Day of the Cat

by ausmac



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 15:54:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9499166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausmac/pseuds/ausmac
Summary: A vignette from an idea I had but did not use for the main story - a day's hunting goes wrong and almost proves fatal for both Garrosh and Varian.





	

Varian knew the moment that Garrosh was hurt.

He felt it as a blow to his chest, a sudden tightening that made him stagger.  His head whipped around, searching for Garrosh in the undergrowth.  He’d only been a short distance ahead, investigating some marks he thought might be from a wild cat that had been attacking a local village.  Varian hadn’t been happy going into terrain with so little clear line-of-sight but, as usual, his mate had just charged ahead, unconcerned about the threat from a single cat.

Varian ran, shoving through the bushes, leaping over fallen tree trunks, pulling Shalamayne from its place on his back as he want.  His heart pumped both from the exertion and the fear.  It had only been a month since he’d almost died and his stamina wasn’t yet up to its previous levels.   The worry gave him extra strength and he threw himself forward, tripped on a hidden boulder and rolled clear.

And he saw them.  Them.  Not one cat – a whole pack of them.

Garrosh was standing with his back to a tree, Gorehowl held up before him, his face twisted into a snarl of fury.  The big striped cats were circling the tree, hunched down, their tails lashing.  It was obvious they’d already attacked – one of the Warchief’s legs was shredded and he was favouring it.  He had more slices across his chest and arms.  It was a wonder the blood loss hadn’t put him down already.

He did a quick count as he ran forward.  Five cats, all fully grown.  There were two cat corpses off at the side of the small clearing, and two of the surviving animals carried wounds.  They’d obviously surprised Garrosh, probably leapt at him from ambush.  They were big animals and in any other situation Varian would have waited and called in reinforcements.  But there was no time for that, not with Garrosh moments away from being swarmed.

He roared and leapt, landing on top off the nearest cat.  It shrieked and rolled and Varian slashed down with his sword, cutting it in half.  He saw one of the others heading for him and rolled aside, slashing horizontally, cutting through its legs.  Then he was up and twisting to meet the two who’d crouched and leapt for him from the side.

One raked him across the arm as it passed; he grit his teeth and kicked out at it, his heavy boots crushing its side and sending it spinning across the grass.  The second one was on him a moment later, lodging onto his back, digging in claws and trying to grab his throat from the back.  His armour gave him some protection but he’d not worn plate that day, just heavy leather padded with mail, and the claws at least partly tore through it.

Time slowed as it often did when he was in a fight for his life.  He could see the last cat with its haunches raised as it was about to spring.  With the one on his back and one moving towards his front, he’d be caught between the two of them and wasn’t sure he had the mobility to beat two off at once.  And then –

A huge axe blade swung down, hitting the crouching cat on the back, severing its spine and it collapsed, screaming.  As Varian spun, trying to dislodge the cat hanging onto him, Garrosh fell forward, grabbed the cat by the back legs and pulled it over his head like a whip and hurled it into the tree he’d been leaning against.

Ignoring the pain of his own wounds, Varian ran forward and killed off all the wounded animals before stumbling to his knees next to Garrosh.  During the whole fight – which had lasted no more than a minute – neither of them had spoken.  Twisting over onto his side, Garrosh groaned, cursed and spat at the nearest dead cat.

“Good timing,” he wheezed as Varian slid forward and pulled him up into his arms.  “Thought we might be finished this time.”

“You are a stupid bastard.”  Varian shuddered as the battle rush faded.  “Stupid, fucking bastard.”

“That is not true.”  Garrosh sagged against him, shaking.  “My mother was honourably mated to my father.”

Varian choked on a laugh, gasping to stop himself from breaking out in hysteria.  “How bad is it?”

“I am not a healer, I do not know.  What I want to know is,” Garrosh muttered, settling himself against Varian, “where the fuck are my Kor’krons?  Did they stop for beer?”

On cue, the undergrowth parted with a crash as four large Kor’kron orcs broke through into the clearing.  They stopped so abruptly they ran into each other, and Garrosh pointed a large finger at the first one.  “You.  Come here!”   The big orc shuffled forward, a worried look on his face.  “Bend over,” and he did, and his Warchief punched him in the head.  “The rest of you, get us both back to Orgrimmar now.  And then you will await my punishment.”

 

Varian’s injuries proved to be relatively light; rips on one arm and hand, some claw gouges where the cat on his back hand found gaps in his armour that were deep but not dangerous.  On the other hand, Garrosh was a mess.  His left leg was mangled, the back of the leg beneath the knee bitten through to the bone, tendons and ligaments ripped, his thigh gashed equally deeply, along with various other claw and tooth damage on his arms and chest.  Blood loss left him weak , and weakness wasn’t something Garrosh Hellscream dealt well with. 

The healers left him finally propped up in his bed swathed in bandages, with potions to help him sleep.  _Glum_ , Varian thought, as he limped into the bedroom, _definitely looking glum._   He stripped off his clothing and slid into bed.  Garrosh looked down at him, his normally bright golden eyes bloodshot.  “Probably not the best place to sleep,” he muttered, nostrils twitching.  Varian moved next to him and ran one hand lightly over the bandaged thigh.

“Well, good, because I wasn’t planning on sleep, at least not right away.”  He collected a bottle of massage oil from the side cabinet and uncapped it, watching Garrosh watching him.  With the ease of long practise, he triggered his aura, letting it drift over his mate.  He sensed the tension slip away and Garrosh's chest rose in a deep sigh.

“I am not…my strength is not…adequate..” 

“You don’t have to do a thing.  Let me comfort you.”  He slid up to his knees and carefully pulled Garrosh’s legs apart so that he could move between them.  Thankfully, the most important part of his lower body hadn’t been damaged and Varian settled down, resting carefully in the space between..  The combination of Omega aura and the smoothing touch of his oiled hands had Garrosh sagging back against the cushions, eyes closing in bliss.  Varian worked the tight thigh muscle on the uninjured leg with just the right amount of pressure, moving up and down, pressing with his thumbs and palm, humming to himself as his hands warmed up.  And when Garrosh was almost asleep, Varian rested against the oiled thigh and slid his slick hands under the big genitals, stroking and holding them in his palm.

Garrosh’s eyes flickered open at that and his cock twitched.  Varian snorted and tapped the big head with his thumb.  “I know I’m always welcome here,” he muttered, bending to blow a breath across the hooded foreskin.  His Omega state meant he was sexually active for only a short period of time every three months – although it was a fairly intense and very pleasant time – but it meant that Garrosh could become frustrated during the rest of that time.  An Alpha never stopped being an Alpha. 

So that meant keeping him satisfied, and truthfully he didn’t mind that.  Although he wasn’t aroused by the act, it was enjoyable in its own way.  It brought them closer together and was a part of his responsibilities towards his powerful Alpha mate.  And while he mightn’t be aroused, his mate certainly was.  Garrosh never tired of seeing Varian taking in his cock.

Varian put the oil aside and slid down, lying half across the good leg, and moved forward until he could lift the half-erect cock into his mouth.  Holding it around the base, he closed his eyes to savour the feel of it.  The Warchief was clean from his wash and tasted of musk and salt and healthy body perspiration.  Varian gradually drew it into his mouth and throat, using just the right amount of suction to cause Garrosh to moan, licking the sides and top as he let it slide out of his mouth, then moving his head down to take in as much of the length as he could.  He would never be able to take it all, it was simply too big, but he did his best.  He glanced up now and then, seeing the wide-eyed hot stare, the open lips, the way Garrosh’s tongue ran over his lips as his arousal grew. 

Varian squeezed his hands on the cock’s base, setting a rhythm that he knew Garrosh enjoyed.  The added regular pumping brought him to complete arousal and his chest heaved as he groaned, his hands coming to rest on Varian’s head.  He didn’t push – he knew Varian didn’t like that – but he couldn’t rest touching, sliding his fingers into the long hair, stroking his fingers across Varian’s scalp to finally feel  the pressure of his cock on his mate’s face and throat.

With a final deep suck, with a flick of his aura, Varian brought Garrosh to climax.  The Warchief moaned and came, pumping his seed into Varian’s throat.  Varian knew it had hurt him a little; it was difficult to orgasm without some muscle contraction – but Garrosh didn’t seem to mind.  He rather thought the pleasure was greater than the pain.  Varian slid off the bed, cleaned his mouth and took a drink of cider before climbing back to lie alongside the extremely satisfied orc.

An arm wrapped around him as Garrosh nuzzled his throat.  He didn’t speak, they rarely did after sex, but they didn’t need to.  They shared their feelings through their mutual auras, and through touch and trust built up over many months.  And the trust was important.  Varian needed Garrosh to survive, while Garrosh had no such need.  The Warchief could have tried to use that power over Varian to enforce obedience.  Yet he never had.  It was perhaps the most surprising thing about their relationship – that it was a relationship and not an enslavement.  Varian didn’t completely understand why, but he suspected part of it was that Garrosh wanted a partner, and not just a possession.  Though the possessiveness was certainly there.  He would always be an orc, and dominance was as much a part of his makeup as his strength.  Luckily, his partner was a match for that dominance, and never allowed it to become overbearing.

Varian put all the philosophical ramblings away and settled himself against Garrosh.  They had fought through another risk to their lives, and survived.  Wounds and pain aside, that made it a good day, and he slept finally to the feel of a strong heartbeat.

 

 


End file.
